Judaism – Page 51

The ethics of cloning

Prof. Arthur Schafer, head of the Centre for Professional and Applied Ethics at the University of Manitoba. (photo from Arthur Schafer)

After a few Chinese researchers recently released a report about their successful cloning of monkeys, the ethics debate about both cloning and the use of monkeys for research reignited.

“It’s not the first time primates have been cloned,” University of Manitoba philosophy professor Arthur Schafer told the Independent, “but it is the first time it has been done by this method.”

A primate is a zoological classification for mammals such as humans, apes and monkeys that are distinguished by, among other things, higher intelligence than other animals.

“The method previously used for cloning primates was called ‘embryo splitting.’ That’s what happens when a mother has identical twins,” explained Schafer, who heads the Center for Professional and Applied Ethics at the U of M and lectures on the ethics of cloning. “The method they used [in China] is called ‘the Dolly Method,’ named after the famous cloning of Dolly the Sheep. Dolly the Sheep was cloned from the breast tissue of the animal being cloned. (Dolly was named after Dolly Parton.) They used an adult cell.”

An advantage of this method over the cell-splitting technique is that you have the potential of getting many more clones, said Schafer. With cell-splitting, you can only get two.

With respect to the ethics of cloning and of using monkeys for research, Schafer said, “The first point is that the success rate is very low – two out of 60. They produced a number of additional embryos that didn’t result in live births or healthy animals.

“With Dolly the Sheep, the success rate was even lower…. Well over 200 clones of Dolly were produced to get one successful live birth of a healthy Dolly clone.”

Another important question is whether or not this research will make human cloning more likely. At present, a major reason why creating a human clone would be unethical is because the chances of the baby being born severely impaired physically or mentally are very high. “No ethical physician would want to use this as reproductive technology or would participate in it, because the chances of getting a healthy baby would be small,” said Schafer.

He said, “The technology will get better and better and could, eventually, maybe in the not-too-distant future, be safe and effective. And, at that point, it might become a viable way for a couple to have a baby. So, if you think this reproductive technology is ethically objectionable for humans, then you’d be opposed to primate experimentation on those grounds.”

For those whose primary objection to human cloning “is that it’s ineffective and unsafe” and “that you have a lot of stillborn babies and that those born alive would have a high chance of being severely impaired,” improvements of the technology could be a reason for primate testing.

Schafer said that human reproductive cloning could become as effective as in vitro fertilization (IVF).

“People got very irate in 1978 when a baby was born by IVF,” he said. “They thought this was a method that was morally wrong – a crime against the baby, against society. But somehow, it is turning out to be not so unsafe, not significantly less safe than natural childbirth. And it can enable, maybe a couple million couples, to have babies who wouldn’t otherwise be able to.”

Schafer postulated that, just as IVF is no longer on the current ethics chopping block, so too cloning may someday reach the point of being considered safe enough to be an acceptable reproduction method.

“The whole debate is about if it is unethical and, if yes, why?” said Schafer. “I think everyone agrees that safety and effectiveness is critical. But, once we get beyond that, some feel it is a case of playing God.”

Currently, human cloning research will land you in prison. But, animal cloning research is allowed in some countries on the grounds that it is for the purpose of making higher-producing animals – a chicken that can lay more eggs, for example, or a cow that can produce more milk or is better at putting on meat. Cloning research for such purposes has been allowed and has been given large financial resources.

“So, where it’s permitted, the rationale is that this technology will enable us to do medical research and to advance scientific knowledge in a way that will improve the quality of lives,” said Schafer. “It’s a matter of weighing and balancing your hope for benefit against your fear of repercussions.

“In discussions I’ve had with Jewish authorities, who although are divided amongst themselves, the predominant strand stresses that one value trumps all others – that being human life. So, you could use that as the basis for an argument that any technology that would hold promise of saving human lives would be favoured by Judaism.”

There is still the concern about conducting research on monkeys.

“Many people, and not just animal rights advocates, regard primates as the last animals, eligible animals, for experimentation,” said Schafer. “They are the most intelligent, the most like us. They have highly developed brains and nervous systems. They are, in many ways, more intelligent than human beings who are impaired or adults who have dementia or are in a vegetative state. We don’t allow medical research on severely cognitively impaired human beings, so how could it be ethical to do research on these closest relatives in the animal world, primates?”

Schafer said there has been a drastic decline in the amount of research done on primates in general, and monkeys in particular.

“You can’t justify the risks of severe harm on primates,” said Schafer. “Either they shouldn’t be used at all or, a compromise position, they should only be used as a last recourse for medical research – only used when incredibly necessary and for a supremely important goal.”

It is on these lines that scientists justify some of the research being done on Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s.

“They believe this technology will allow them to produce animal models that will facilitate research on diseases such as Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s,” said Schafer. “So, do we need to do this research? Are there other better alternatives? Is the moral [price of] experimenting on primates too high to justify the medical benefits it hopes to achieve? These are all issues that are critical to the debate.”

Rebeca Kuropatwa is a Winnipeg freelance writer.

Civil dissent: a Jewish value

Last week, I participated in a survey on Canadian Jews done by the Environics Institute for Survey Research, in partnership with Prof. Robert Brym of the University of Toronto and Prof. Rhonda Lenton of York University. It’s considered a “landmark national survey of Jews in Canada in 2018.”

The phone call came at 5 p.m. This time coincides with making dinner, school lunches for my kids, feeding our dogs, and keeping the twins and dogs from roughhousing too much in the meanwhile. (Did I mention my biologist husband was away, doing field work?)

However, I knew this was important. This was a situation where my opinions and experiences mattered. I needed to contribute despite being the only adult present to address the chaos at my house.

Often, we think of politics, religion and money as things to avoid. They’re too emotionally laden to make good dinner conversation. Still, we need to talk and think about this to figure out where we stand. If one looks only at the Torah portion of the week, you might see it as black and white pronouncements about how one should behave or observe the commandments. Yet Oral Law is also part of Judaism. We care what the rabbis thought and discussed. Over thousands of years, our ideas developed, changed and grew. Those talmudic discussions include majority and minority opinions, as well as stories and sayings.

In our tradition, subtle differences matter. Opinions matter. According to the joke, if you ask two Jews, you’ll get three opinions.

That’s why I was stunned by the reaction to actress Natalie Portman’s choice to decline the Genesis Prize. In her statement, she lovingly celebrated her Israeli identity, her friends and family and her citizenship. She also explained that she felt uncomfortable with the current government, specifically, Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu’s choices, and its “violence, corruption, inequality and abuse of power.”

A torrent of media and political reaction followed, some of it hysterical in tone. The president of the Zionist Organization of America, Mort Klein, was downright misogynistic. He called the Harvard-educated actor and director “beautiful, but not too bright.”

Portman carries two passports as a dual American-Israeli citizen. Some called for her to be stripped of her Israeli citizenship. Since when is it OK to tell someone they can no longer be a citizen of a democratic country because she spoke out on political issues that concern her?

I’m a dual American-Canadian citizen. If I speak out on a political issue, I am within my rights as a citizen of (either) democratic society. I hear comments on Prime Minister Justin Trudeau’s government or U.S. President Donald Trump’s latest tweets wherever I go. All that said, some of those survey questions made me realize – I no longer feel comfortable publicly writing about or speaking either in support of Israel or criticizing Israel’s policies. Why?

All subtlety has dropped out of the conversation.

Old guard, right-wing Zionists who say “I stand with Israel” bristle whenever anyone says something critical of the current Israeli government’s policies. Meanwhile, anyone with liberal or left-wing politics feels uncomfortable with the notion that Israel would deport asylum-seekers, never mind the current violence with Palestinians or the reactions to their using the word “occupied.”

Many have given up even trying to discuss the issues. They don’t want to be attacked. Getting vitriolic responses from friends, acquaintances and family members, or a stream of emails about those “antisemites,” or worse, seems par for the course now.

A New York magazine article online, “Natalie Portman and the crisis of liberal Zionism,” helps explain the dilemma. Many younger North American Jews embrace liberal North American politics about equality and human rights, and feel disconnected from Israel. The old notion of a liberal Zionist or progressive supporter is no longer courted by Israel, either. The support of Christian evangelicals and a growing block of Orthodox, conservative voters might mean that some in Israel believe they no longer need the support of those liberal Zionists of old.

You may wonder why my columns don’t discuss Israel much. I’d respond with what Israelis told me as a teenager, living on an Israeli kibbutz. “If you want to weigh in on Israeli politics? Move to Israel and vote. Otherwise? We’ve heard enough from you North Americans.”

I tend my garden, as Voltaire says – I write about Judaism, religion, family and about where we stand as Canadian Jews. Our religion teaches us to learn, analyze and form opinions, like the rabbis do. As a citizen of both the United States and Canada, I defend wholeheartedly Portman’s right to speak out on politics and human rights issues that matter to her. It’s an essential part of free speech and the democratic ideal. One has to wonder whether the virulent reaction to her statement says more about Portman, or about the people who have responded so negatively.

In a democracy, we should be able to express well-considered opinions and disagree about things in a civil way, without fear of threats. Why would anyone consider it acceptable (Jewish) behaviour to threaten, embarrass or demean someone else? Many rabbis taught us: threats, embarrassment or denigrating others are just not Jewish things to do.

Joanne Seiff writes regularly for CBC Manitoba and various Jewish publications. She is the author of three books, including From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016, a collection of essays available for digital download or as a paperback from Amazon. See more about her at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.

The tough choices

The value of ahavat ha’beriot, the love of God’s creations, is open to broad interpretation. The animal world, the environment, as well as other people, can all fall under this crucial tenet of Judaism.

Like positive values and most good things, of course, this is easier in theory than in practice. We all want a clean environment and a better world, but we also want the convenience of automobiles, abundant and varied food, and the panorama of disposable consumer goods that we associate with the “good life.”

Awareness is, on the one hand, the most important factor in social change. On the other hand, it can overwhelm us to learn the full scope of our impacts on the world. Leave aside the huge looming catastrophe of climate change and consider for a moment the impact of a single, almost universal item of clothing: the cotton T-shirt.

Some bumper sticker wisdom urges us to “live simply, that others may simply live.” We do not always think of our wardrobe when considering our carbon footprint. Yet, after housing, food and transportation, for many people, clothing is one of the largest expenditures. Since voting with our wallets is one important way of making change, it is worth considering the impacts of our wardrobe choices. And what we wear on our backs says more about us than merely our fashion sense. It speaks (whether we know it or not) about our views on the environment and matters like child labour and fair wages.

To this end, one might think that a basic T-shirt would be a good choice. Yet it can take up to 2,700 litres of water to produce the cotton required for this simple garment, according to the World Wildlife Federation. Caring for the T-shirt over its lifespan takes further resources: each load of laundry takes more than 150 litres of water. Throwing it in the dryer (with a full load) consumes even more energy resources than the washing machine – about five times as much. Hanging it instead on a clothesline would reduce the shirt’s carbon footprint by one-third, but who remembers those? (Walk down a back lane in Vancouver a generation ago, and clotheslines snaked across almost every yard.) That few of us would be prepared to make this comparatively small shift indicates the glacial – to use an ironic term in the context – pace of human change in a time of rapid change in the environment.

Our food choices are even heavier with impacts. Researchers at institutions including the Weizmann Institute of Science calculated the use of land area, water and nitrogen fertilizer in animal food production. Potatoes, wheat and rice require half to one-sixth of the resources needed to produce pork, chicken, dairy and eggs in a calorie-for-calorie comparison. (Beef takes as much as five times the resources as chicken.)

Livestock for food are estimated to create about 20% of greenhouse gas emissions while using vast amounts of agricultural and water resources. Reducing or giving up meat consumption results in a huge reduction in resources. Producing a kilogram of protein from beef requires about 18 times more land, 10 times more water, nine times more fuel, 12 times more fertilizer and 10 times more pesticide than producing a kilogram of protein from kidney beans. But, again, many people love a steak or roast chicken and giving up these pleasures is not on the agenda.

This is not to instil hopelessness that even our simplest choices are leading to environmental disaster. Rather, it is to be aware of the power of small changes to have significant results.

We can extrapolate the outsized impacts of larger choices. When faced with the realities of carbon fuels on our environment (and health), most of us will not choose to sell our cars. But we might use them more judiciously. Or buy a more fuel-efficient vehicle. And, when it comes to making big political decisions that impact our environment and health, we might consider that, on balance, we should be moving toward investing in alternatives to fossil fuels, not pouring public or private billions into perpetuating deleterious and nonrenewable resources. We may not go cold turkey on gasoline and oil overnight, but our discrete choices should be leading incrementally in the right direction, not the wrong one.

Experiencing a renewal

More than 100 people came out to Burquest Community Association’s Purim carnival this year. (photo from Burquest)

At the end of a short, upward-sloping driveway in Port Coquitlam, what was originally a Jehovah’s Witness centre was converted into a Jewish community centre a couple of decades ago. The community the centre houses, Burquest, has been active since 1973. As the Jewish presence in the Tri-Cities grows, it is playing an increasingly essential role in providing services and connecting Jews to one another and to our culture and traditions.

The Burquest Jewish Community Association is dedicated to the “religious, social, cultural and educational needs of the Jewish population of the Fraser Valley,” with a membership of around 70 families, according to their website. The membership is diverse, with roots in five continents and a wide variety of Jewish backgrounds and interests, ranging in age from infants to grandparents. Yet, two years ago, the community’s future was uncertain – the board was considering continuing under the auspices of the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver, until Shoshana Szlachter stepped up to offer new leadership. She became board president just over a year ago.

“We were suffering from an onerous debt, it didn’t look like there was enough membership to keep it going,” Rudy Rozanski, Burquest vice-president, told the Jewish Independent. “A few of us got together, and Shoshana was at the head of that, and we decided that we do believe in the future of Burquest and we decided we did want to re-invigorate it. We had many ideas and they were instituted by Shoshana in a clear and positive way. We transformed it into a centre for Jewish learning, as well as being a community centre.”

Part of Burquest’s new success seems to lie in going back to their origins. “When I first joined Burquest, we were non-denominational, and then went Reform. But that didn’t work out as an experiment,” said Rozanski. “In a sense, we’ve returned to our roots.”

A year into Burquest’s renewal, things are looking up.

“Financially, we’ve come along really well,” said Szlachter. “When I came in, I thought, there’s still some life in this old donkey, let’s give it a kick and see what happens.”

The community reduced the cost of seats for the High Holidays and gave free memberships to those who bought tickets – this tripled membership. The centre has also gotten key grants, including from Federation, the Waldman Foundation and the City of Coquitlam. They have partnered with PJ Library to offer activities for children, as well as expanding their programming overall. For example, Burquest now has a Seniors on the Go program, covering yoga for seniors, mah jongg, art and piano gatherings, and a lunch-and-learn program on Jewish genealogy. There is a women’s class led by Devorah Brody, a teen club, Maccabee Kids (with optional Hebrew lessons) and a parent-and-tot drop-in program called Coffee and Knishes. Cantor Steve Levin leads religious services, and holiday events have been well-attended, with some 100 people joining the Chanukah and Purim celebrations.

“For a small community, our calendar is pretty full,” said Szlachter.

“I really enjoy the wide range of programming that Burquest is now offering,” said Sandra Hochstein, who has been involved with Burquest for 20 years. “When my daughters were young, I participated in all the child-oriented activities and am glad to see they are still there and going strong. Now that I am an empty-nester and newly retired, I love being able to participate in the adult activities, such as lunch-and-learn sessions and Monday morning yoga. I still appreciate the sense of community that I feel when attending Shabbat or High Holiday services.”

Asked about Szlachter’s role in Burquest’s “renewal,” Rozanski said, “Shoshana is an outstanding leader who is genuinely effective and concerned about our community, and her decisions regarding Burquest’s future have been unanimously applauded. Renewal is the right word for what our community is going through.”

More information about Burquest can be found at burquest.org.

Matthew Gindin is a freelance journalist, writer and lecturer. He is Pacific correspondent for the CJN, writes regularly for the Forward, Tricycle and the Wisdom Daily, and has been published in Sojourners, Religion Dispatches and elsewhere. He can be found on Medium and Twitter.

A girl’s rite of passage

Mia holds a Havdalah candle. (photo by Miriam Leo Gindin)

Many Orthodox Jews wait until a boy’s third birthday before giving him his first haircut in a ritual called upsherin, a Yiddish word meaning to “cut off.” In recent years, this custom has spread outside of the Orthodox world to be embraced by other Jews and, as a recent upsherin in Vancouver showed, some are beginning to include girls in the custom as well.

On March 17, Noam and Val Dolgin invited family and friends to their house for the upsherin of their daughter, Mia.

“For me, this was an opportunity to connect with tradition. I love the lifecycle traditions of Judaism,” Val Dolgin told the Jewish Independent.

Noting that they had done the same thing for their son Erez, who is two years older than Mia, she said, “I think it’s really important for kids to see themselves as being a part of a multi-generational community that cares about them, that makes them feel safe; that they can know they’re part of something bigger than themselves, that there are lots of people around rooting for them to succeed. For me, it was a chance for Mia to be affirmed in her community, to mark a transition, and to connect with tradition in a way that’s meaningful.”

Val Dolgin’s parents, who did not grow up with the upsherin tradition, were present at the ceremony. “My parents are very proud that they have Jewishly involved children,” she said. “They had never been to an upsherin before Erez and Mia’s. For them, they enjoy any opportunity to celebrate their family.”

Traditionally, the upsherin marks when, at the age of 3, a boy officially begins his Torah education and starts to wear a kippah and tzitzit. It was first mentioned in Sha’ar HaKavonot by Rabbi Chaim Vital, a student of 16th-century kabbalist Isaac Luria. The ceremony’s origins are mystical, and it was seldom observed outside of the Orthodox world until recently. The traditional ritual includes the haircut (leaving peyot), eating cookies shaped like Hebrew letters and dipped in honey (to show learning is sweet) and the wearing of tzitzit and a kippah for the first time.

The idea of three years as the transition time derives from the mitzvah of orlah. The Torah says that if you plant a tree, all fruits that grow during the first three years are orlah, or off limits (Leviticus 19:23). Given the kabbalistic comparisons of people to trees, many Orthodox Jews leave a child’s hair uncut during the first three years.

“The ritual of upsherin was special for us on a few levels,” said Noam Dolgin. “First, the ecological connection, which reminds us that we are part of nature. Two, it marks an important transition from baby/toddler to child. And, lastly, it is an important moment when our child is old enough to start learning and internalizing Jewish and communal values and mitzvot.”

He added, “I believe the practice has even more significance today as we better understand child development and re-explore our ecological connections. And, of course, we would do it for our daughter – it’s just as relevant to her development and place in our community as it was our son.”

“The upsherin marks a Havdalah between freest babyhood and, at age 3, the first increment of teaching and training a child,” said Or Shalom spiritual leader Rabbi Hannah Dresner, who led the ceremony. “What a great ritual to promote and renew! For us, of course, it is an egalitarian marking of readiness. Traditionally, the first snip is taken from the centre of the forelock, the place of the third eye or of insight, the spot that will, someday, at the next big milestone of readiness, receive the tefillin shel rosh, the tefillin box that sits on the forehead. For those in progressive Jewish circles, kippah, tzitzit and tefillin are all ritual wear promoted for girls and boys alike. The upsherin can be a sweet, celebratory beginning of Jewish education and the beginning of mitzvah-doing in the lives of all our children.”

My chat with Ed Asner

Ed Asner stars in A Man and His Prostate, which is at the Anvil Centre Theatre for two nights only: April 27-28. (photo from ACT)

I did my homework. I had read and watched interviews. I had my questions ready. I was prepared. But Ed Asner is a force of nature – a funny, caring and curious one, but a force of nature nonetheless. And nature is more powerful than the proverbial man. I learned that in high school English class – man has a chance against another man or his own internal demons, but not so much against nature.

I was calling Asner about his upcoming performances in New Westminster at the Anvil Centre Theatre April 27-28. He stars in A Man and His Prostate, written by his longtime friend Ed Weinberger, a multiple-award-winning scribe (including a Writers Guild of America Lifetime Achievement Award), who has written for countless TV series – for soooo many comedies. Both Weinberger and Asner know funny, so this show promises to be hilarious. But its purpose is also to make a point: “that point being,” Asner told me succinctly, “get examined.” Hear that, guys?

I’ve interviewed famous people before so that wasn’t the reason I got somewhat flustered in speaking with Asner. Admittedly, I loved and watched every episode of The Mary Tyler Moore Show and its spinoff drama Lou Grant. I have enjoyed Asner in various other roles over the years, including on Murdoch Mysteries (as Santa Claus, of all things) and, of course, as the voice of Carl Fredricksen, the grumpy protagonist in Up, who made me cry. Hearing such a well-known voice respond to your questions is very cool, and a little unnerving, but there was more to it.

I called Asner at the number I was given by the publicist for the local show. The woman who answered the phone simply said he’d had to leave and that I should try his cell, so I did, thinking nothing of it. The connection wasn’t great, but I reached Asner – he was in an L.A. hospital waiting to get a CT scan. When I wished him well and said we could reschedule the interview, he said, “Let’s try to talk now. It’ll help me pass the time.”

As I started asking him questions, he stopped me: “Are you uncomfortable doing this?”

“No,” I said, “I’m happy to keep your mind off things if that’s going to help.” I got as far as finding out that Weinberger had approached Asner about a year and a half ago to take on this role, but the line really was bad and we weren’t hearing each other – he said he’d call me back. But it was Asner’s righthand man (Nick, I think) who phoned, telling me that Asner had gone in for his CT, and they would call again once it was complete.

Next call: “Are you OK?” I asked.

“I’m fine. Well, maybe a little dizzy,” said Asner. Or, at least that’s what I think he said. After a spike of feedback came through the phone, I admitted, “I can barely hear you.”

In a louder voice, enunciating carefully and speaking slowly, he responded, “I said, maybe a little bit of syphilis.”

I might have taken a beat before saying, “Oh my. Really?! Is that the headline I can put?”

While it may not be apparent on first meeting, I can be bawdy with the best of them, and I enjoy such banter when all involved are of age and it’s in good fun. And this would turn out to be one of the most fun interviews I’ve conducted.

Laughing, I said, “So it all went well, the CT scan?”

It had indeed. He’d had a fall but was OK. I thanked him for calling me back, and he let me know, “Well, I’m reversing the charges.”

“You should!” I said. “You’re paying for this now. Oh my gosh. I was hoping to get my parents to pay for it.” (I was in Ottawa, and was calling him from my parents’ house.)

“Ah, no, no, no,” he assured me. “Anyway, you’ve got a lovely voice.”

“As do you, of course. But a little more famous than mine.”

“Well, I’ve been working at it longer.”

We eventually returned to where we had left off. “Were you involved in any of the writing process, or is there improv involved?” I asked about the show.

“Not on this,” said Asner. “I worked with him [Weinberger] on our book together, called The Grouchy Historian, which came out in October. We worked together on that, but he wrote A Man and His Prostate all by himself.”

“And you obviously liked what he wrote.”

“I love it.”

Asner said his first performance of A Man and His Prostate was in the fall of 2016, but then he stopped the interview again, leaving the phone with Nick – the two were still at the hospital, about to grab a very late lunch. Getting into a rhythm for this interview was proving impossible. Case in point, when Asner returned to the line, he started interviewing me. Why was I calling from Ottawa? I explained I was at home for Passover and asked if he had attended a seder. “No, we were on the road,” he said, going on to ask me about the weather in Ottawa, how many were in my family, whether I had grown up in Vancouver. When I let him know that I had grown up in Winnipeg, he said, “Oh, God.” And, while I fumbled to regain my role as interviewer, he continued his train of thought, “Froze your ass off didn’t you?”

“I did,” I admitted. “And that’s why I live in Vancouver now.”

After some PG-rated politically incorrect exchanges, I managed to get back to my questions.

The first shows of A Man and His Prostate were in California, he said, then they did a few in New York.

“Do you do what the show preaches? Do you get regular prostate exams?” I asked.

“Well, I’m due for one, I must tell you,” he said.

Asner called A Man and His Prostate “wonderfully funny,” and said “it stresses a very important point – that point being, get examined.”

He said the show is “very rewarding to do because the laughter is prevalent.”

At 88, he has no plans to retire. As for his beginnings in the profession, he said his desire to be an actor “didn’t achieve consciousness until I did the lead in the play at university.” He said, “I had done radio in high school, and loved it, but full-fledged stage-acting, I hadn’t thought of that.”

That doesn’t mean he didn’t like the spotlight as a kid. “I loved to get up and sing Adon Olam louder than anyone else,” he said, adding, “My bar mitzvah was a failure.”

He explained, “I spoke too fast, and angered my father. I put my hands behind my back, hovering over my ass, that angered him, as well. I was a prize student … but that bar mitzvah was not of prime quality.”

Asner grew up in an Orthodox home and, he said, “I’d say I pursued acting, probably, as part of my atonement” for his bar mitzvah. He said acting was at least a partial atonement in that it involved “pleasing the crowd, reciting or reading the script correctly and empathetically … all kinds of things.”

While no longer religious, Asner attributed his activism to “the intensity of my raising, the love of my parents, the constant identification as a Jew, [being] born in the time of Hitler.”

The actor has seven grandchildren. When I asked about whether he actively tries to engage them in the world around them, he joked, “Nope. I don’t like ’em.”

“You only hang out with them when you have to?” I asked.

“Uh huh. They don’t like me. It’s a perfect fit.”

I told him how much I enjoyed the Funny or Die video Old People Don’t Care About Climate Change, in which he took part. I mentioned it because one of his lines in it is, “My grandkids are spoiled anyway. They could use a little hardship.” The video’s message, of course, is that younger people must take action to protect the environment.

“I worship the earth,” Asner told me. “I don’t necessarily worship any god.”

Returning to the reason for the interview, I asked him whether he had anything else to say about A Man and His Prostate. “You’ll be there, and you’ll see how right I was to urge you to come,” he said.

The show is about Weinberger’s “journey to discover his inner self both literally and figuratively,” reads the press material. “This near tragedy is masterfully transformed into a poignant monologue perfectly portrayed by Asner as he visits the hospital in preparation for a surgery he needs but doesn’t want.”

“There’s mostly jokes all the way, or building up to a joke,” Asner said. “But then we get to that little section where I talk about the celebrities who have died – it’s a long list of celebrities – and I make the serious point that, every 16 minutes, a man dies of prostate cancer in the United States.”

As we wound up, he said, “You’re a wonderful interviewer, I don’t care what they say about you.”

“You should only believe half the rumours,” I returned.

A charmer to the end, he said, “I can’t wait to meet you.”

After I told him I didn’t think that was an option for me, he asked, “Why not?”

“Because you’re you!”

He told me to tell the publicist, “Well, say that I asked for you.”

“OK,” I said. “And I’ve now got it on tape, so I can actually prove that I’m not just making that up.”

“That’s right,” he agreed. “That’s absolutely right.”

He said, I “could even bring Momma” – my mother had answered the phone when he called back.

“Momma might even fly to Vancouver for that,” I responded before handing the phone over to my mom so she could say goodbye.

For tickets ($75) to A Man and His Prostate at the Anvil Centre Theatre April 27-28, 7:30 p.m., visit ticketsnw.ca or call 604-521-5050.

#MeToo waves reverberate

Rabbi Mark Dratch (photo from Mark Dratch)

In the first of a series of articles on sexual harassment and violence in the Jewish community, the Jewish Independent speaks with Rabbi Mark Dratch, executive vice-president of the Rabbinical Council of America and founder of JSafe, the Jewish Institute Supporting an Abuse Free Environment, about child abuse.

The “Me Too” movement was started more than 10 years ago to help survivors of sexual violence. Propelled by the hashtag #MeToo, the long-overdue public discussion about sexual harassment and violence against women has revealed that most women have at one point or other in their lives – and usually on more than one occasion – been belittled or threatened, harassed and/or assaulted.

It also has become clear that much abuse occurs – or first occurs – in childhood, and that such abuse is often perpetrated by individuals considered trustworthy, such as a family member, a family friend or someone in an authoritative role, like a teacher, coach or spiritual leader.

Rabbi Mark Dratch, executive vice-president of the Rabbinical Council of America (RCA) and founder of JSafe, the Jewish Institute Supporting an Abuse Free Environment, first became acquainted with the issue when he was working as a pulpit rabbi.

“It was probably about 30 years ago,” he told the Independent. “When I was a young rabbi, I became aware of instances of child abuse in the Jewish community and I was very displeased – by the way the situations were being handled, by the way victims were being treated, by the way communities were in a state of denial … and that many of our institutions were not responding appropriately to the allegations. Victims were becoming re-victimized and we weren’t protecting the safety of victims in our community.”

In a paper on child abuse within the Orthodox community, Dratch argued that the then-status quo way of handling these cases was, in fact, based on misinterpretations of the spirit and letter of Jewish law. He addressed, for example, the notion that one must not speak ill of others and their actions, using the Torah to explain that, in instances of child abuse, this sanction does not apply. Taking it a step further, he showed that, in situations such as child abuse, people have an obligation to speak up. His paper was distributed to members of the RCA, and also to many Jewish child and family services agencies in the United States.

“People objected to calling the child protective agencies or civil authorities because of what was perceived to be a religious ban against reporting a fellow Jew to the civil authorities,” said Dratch. “So, I advocated very strongly and proved that it’s not the case – that there’s an obligation to call and work hard to share that information, and to establish community policies that advocate the importance of reporting. There is a whole host of other Jewish values that are good and appropriate but, when they’re misapplied, they can be very harmful.

“I started to get more and more involved in the issue and became aware of more issues. I became involved in organizations in the Jewish community, the general community and the interfaith community that dealt with issues of child abuse.

“This was a period of education for me in terms of the nature of the incidents, but also various responses, and I have been involved ever since,” he said. “Also, for a number of years, I’ve been involved in trying to educate the community and address the objections people have … trying to advocate for policy and to change attitudes. Over the 30 years or so, we see that the community is in a very different place than it was then.”

Thanks to movements like #MeToo, many survivors have become less fearful of speaking out. “Many of them had felt that, somehow, the stereotype that this doesn’t happen in the Jewish community further alienated them and made it difficult for them to acknowledge the abuse,” said Dratch.

Although he admitted we still have a long way to go, Dratch said he feels that the topic is now more common in community discussions. He also said there are now more supports in place for survivors to come forward and get the help they need from the community. As well, more institutions are developing policies of prevention and response in regards to child abuse.

“I think we are now way beyond the situation where there was denial that this was happening,” said Dratch. “We’re way beyond a situation where the community denies that it has any responsibility in prevention and such.”

According to Dratch, the RCA has been a leader in this field, giving rabbis the tools to respond appropriately if complaints of child abuse come up.

“We serve as a resource to our rabbis looking for guidance on how to handle specific situations that may arise in their communities,” said Dratch. “And, we’ve also evolved our mechanisms for holding our rabbis accountable if there are complaints against them for boundary violations or abuse.”

With respect to the Orthodox community, Dratch has found that the number of females victimized is generally lower than that of males, while numbers in the general community indicate that females are more likely targets of child abuse than males. He attributes the difference as likely being due to the increased segregation of the sexes in Orthodox communities.

“The larger culture, in the Jewish and Orthodox community, has enabled and empowered people to come forward and share their complaints and seek justice,” said Dratch. “We will continue to look for ways to educate our rabbis and our communities, and to make our communities and institutions safer.”

While Dratch deals mostly with the Orthodox community, in previous years, he has been involved with the entire spectrum of the Jewish community. In his view, the phenomenon of abuse does not discriminate between observant and non-observant.

“It doesn’t discriminate at all,” he said. “And we have an obligation, as individuals and as a community, to be there for every member of our larger community. Many people who are involved in these things think that we are no different than the general community. It’s really hard to know what our numbers are. My position is that even one is too many. And we certainly have many more than one victim.”

According to Dratch, in the general community – Jewish and non-Jewish together – one out of seven boys and one out of three or four girls become victims of child abuse.

Rebeca Kuropatwa is a Winnipeg freelance writer.

Rituals can help us with loss

My nephew L’s public elementary school principal just died unexpectedly. She wasn’t old, and it was very sudden. The school closed for an afternoon so everyone could go to a memorial service. He’s upset … as any 9-year-old kid would be. His family lives near my parents, in Virginia, so, when my brother called for grandparent backup, they went right over. They needed to help my nephew start learning and talking about death.

This is so hard, but, in some ways, we are lucky. Judaism has rituals, information and thousands of years of coping with this topic. We can joke about it, sure, but nobody comes out of this thing called life alive. Better to have some things in place ahead of time, so you’re ready for it.

There are those who try to protect kids from sad or upsetting events, and keep them home and shelter them from funerals. This is a disservice to kids, who need to learn how these things work. I experienced several deaths and attended funerals as a little kid, as close family and friends died. Watching my family members mourn, going through shivah and attending services with them to say Kaddish helped me get a grip on the losses of people I loved, even though I wasn’t old enough to do much of this myself.

By comparison, my husband didn’t lose close family members until he was a young adult in his twenties. He didn’t have a deep understanding of traditional Jewish practices, about what would happen and how. In a short span of time, he lost all his grandparents and his mother. Going through the rituals, attending services to say Kaddish and to mourn his mother, was very hard. It was a long year, and we were in grad school, far away from family. However, we used those rituals as a crutch, and it helped us get through it together.

Although my mom is retired, she worked as a Jewish educator and administrator for many years. She still helps manage arrangements for the sale of Jewish burial plots for her Virginia congregation. My mom often helps people as they deal with a sudden death, a long illness or another difficult situation. She was recently invited to talk to the Grade 6 religious school class as they studied Jewish mourning and death.

It turned out that L’s older brother, age 12, was in that class. Although he recognized many of the pictures in my mom’s presentation, he said he learned some new things, too. He recognized the 140-year-old cemetery in Alexandria, where he visits and helps out sometimes. My mom covered basic traditions, but she also talked about how we can comfort friends who lose grandparents – the real details that help us cope with loss. Most poignant for me, though, was the new story my mother told me that she’d mentioned in the class. It was a way to help kids learn to support friends with their losses.

When my mom was 12, there was a phone call in the middle of the night. She heard her dad crying, which she’d never heard before. His father, her grandfather “Poppa,” had died. Her friends at school came up to her. They were sorry to hear about his death. Poppa used to carry around big packets of Juicy Fruit gum in his pockets. He’d hand out sticks of gum to all the kids at the end of High Holiday services. Those friends helped her remember her grandfather in a loving, wonderful way.

In Leviticus, which we read each week at synagogue at this time of year, there are long lists of “shoulds” and “should nots” and instructions for how we should do things. Some of these rules seem rigid. Many aren’t really applicable in a world without ritual sacrifices in the Temple in Jerusalem. However, we have both rabbinic teachings and the Tanakh sacrifice experience. We’re offered tools for how to mourn and how to manage through hard times. That history can propel us forward.

My family and community “practised” with kids so they were ready. True, it may be bending someone’s rules to recite Kaddish in the backyard over a beloved pet who has died. It may not be exactly correct to light a yahrzeit candle and recite Kaddish over a beloved (non-Jewish) elementary school principal who has died, but this “practising” doesn’t matter to most. The Jewish rituals and traditions that exist around death aren’t really about the person who died. It’s about how the rest of us will move forward.

Death is a part of life. It’s dang hard. However, hard things don’t go away because we decide not to talk about them or face them. Instead, brave people conquer difficult challenges through facing them head on. My nephew L is one of those brave people. He uses a wheelchair, signs and uses an iPad communication device to talk – and shows such compassion. He told my mother, “Now I know how you felt when your mom died.”

This week, my nephew heard that we are about to adopt a new dog. He hadn’t realized that one of our dogs died last fall, right before Yom Kippur. He was reassured that our dog Harry was old, and very sick … and that is how most of us die. However, it’s through talking about this that we can move on towards celebrating a new “family member,” too.

Talking about death isn’t easy, but we need to do it – in calm, peaceful ways – long before something sudden happens to us or our families. Talking about death in a Jewish context and acknowledging the value of the rituals that help us cope with it may be one of the deepest ways we can celebrate life.

Olympian’s North Shore ties

When A.J. Edelman was training in Whistler, he was the guest cantor for Chabad of the North Shore’s Yom Kippur services. (photo from A.J. Edelman)

Chabad of the North Shore community members had a more personal reason to cheer on A.J. Edelman at the 2018 Winter Olympics in PyeongChang, South Korea. Israel’s only skeleton athlete to have made it to the Games, Edelman was training in Whistler around the High Holidays last year. While there, he participated in community life, stepping in as guest cantor on Yom Kippur.

“Although he [Edelman] could have attended services at a larger synagogue in Vancouver, he was committed to spending Yom Kippur where he could be useful and have an impact,” said Rabbi Mendy Mochkin, spiritual leader of Chabad of the North Shore. “We had a cantor during Rosh Hashanah, but not for Yom Kippur.

“It worked out great. Our community was very excited to learn that a skeleton athlete representing Israel was training locally and was very touched that he chose to join us. They were very moved by his … melodies and heartfelt prayers. We all prayed together with him that he should attain his dream to be an ambassador for Am Yisrael. Our prayers were answered!”

Edelman was born and raised in Boston, in a Modern Orthodox, Zionist family, and he attended an Orthodox Jewish day school. When he was 2, his parents strapped a pair of skates onto his feet. By 22, he was a good hockey player, but not good enough to become a professional.

“I decided that, if I wanted to continue doing sports, it had to be on a high, elite level that could really give a platform to whatever I would choose to do afterward,” Edelman told the Independent. “So, I decided to represent Israel, because it was going to be the only way I was going to do it. As it happened, as I was thinking about this, skeleton appeared on the TV for the team trials for the United States for Sochi. And I thought it looked like a terrific sport – eye-catching.”

For some athletes, they become good at a sport and then look for a country that will let them compete under its flag. In Edelman’s case, he was mainly spurred by the idea of representing Israel. Then, he began searching for a sport.

“It could certainly help me achieve my goal of inspiriting people,” said Edelman. “I didn’t know how difficult it was or how painful it was. I didn’t know how bad, at first, I would be at it. But, I did dive full on into it.”

Edelman had to go from zero to 100, so to speak, in less than four years. While many along the way tried to tell him his goal was unattainable, the naysayers only fueled his resolve to succeed.

“It’s not like swimming or other sports where you have to hit a time relative to previous Olympics times, you have to hit an absolute performance standard of world ranking in that specific year. It’s a quota system,” explained Edelman of skeleton.

Edelman had to become one of the top 30 skeleton athletes in the world in about 48 months. His last year of training was focused – with help from the other athletes on the Israeli skeleton team – on maximizing his point collection at competitions.

“Positioning Israel to be the beneficiary of one of 10 single-sled nations through points I accumulated through specifics results and races was important – and it involved a lot of mathematical calculation,” said Edelman.

Edelman finished 28 out of 30 at the Winter Olympics.

photo - A.J. Edelman was Israel’s only skeleton athlete to make it to the 2018 Winter Olympics in PyeongChang, South Korea — A.J. Edelman was Israel’s only skeleton athlete to make it to the 2018 Winter Olympics in PyeongChang, South Korea. *(photo by Joern Rohde)*

“Making the Games was an insane accomplishment in that we were the only ones who did it without any coaching,” said Edelman. “We had absolute zero coaching for the first two years of my journey…. It took a huge physical toll and mental toll, and a massive financial toll. So, yes, 28 out of 30, I was very pleased.”

Edelman learned the sport from YouTube videos, and fundraised the money he needed to participate in competitions, buy equipment, and cover hotel stays and training facility fees. As far as trying to compete at the next Olympics, Edelman said, while he’d like to do that, it’s just not feasible.

“The financial strain is insane – $40,000 a year,” he said. “And only about 40% of it was covered from over the last four years by sponsors, family, friends – and complete random strangers. Doing it for another cycle would be too much of a financial strain. And I think I’ve accomplished what I was looking to accomplish, and am able to remain involved in Israel’s sports and help the next generation achieve their goals. I now have that platform.”

Although Edelman was at the Games – or maybe because he was at the Games – he said he felt disconnected from the Olympics as a whole.

“I only saw my own thing,” he said. “Otherwise, the experience at the end, or during the competition, of representing Israel, it was an honour unparalleled to anything in my life. There were a few moments I felt like I could cherish forever – the thoughts and feeling that this is what it’s like to represent a country and how it feels to be that individual. It was absolutely terrific.”

Edelman said he is not sure about what might come next for him, but that he is aiming big. For now, he is focused on transitioning from being a full-time athlete back into normal life. But life will never be the same for him, now that he has proven his potential to himself.

“If you apply yourself so completely and fully, and you just dedicate yourself the most you can, a lot can be accomplished,” he said. “But, not everything … I am never going to be able to make the NBA.

“I don’t usually tell people anything is possible. I tell them what I learned in the streets – that no one can tell you what you can’t do, and that you shouldn’t let others’ opinions dictate what you can do.”

As far as his experience with the Jewish community while training in Whistler, Edelman said, “My Jewish heritage is everything to me. It’s the entire reason why I did this. This journey was terribly difficult – it was the Jewish heritage aspect of it that kept me going.

“I cannot tell you how many times I wanted to give up, quit or just take days off,” he admitted. “But, then I’d remember I was representing the entire Jewish and Israeli community. Every night before I went to bed, I’d thank God for allowing me to be what’s called a Kiddush Hashem [sanctifying God’s name by living by example, in a holy way]. This means being a positive role model for my community and that means everything to me.”

Edelman connects with Jewish communities wherever he goes, seeing himself as an ambassador of the Jewish state. So, for him, joining the North Shore Jewish community when he was training in Whistler was a foregone conclusion.

The 2019 World Championship will be held in Whistler and, although Edelman has retired from athletic life, he wants to attend.

“When I tried out,” recalled Edelman of his first skeleton trial, “the Israel scouting report said that if I could just get down the track, that would be it … that I wouldn’t make it to the Games no matter how hard I tried. I think everybody can have that kind of moment … when they think they can’t do something or are told they can’t do something – but they should absolutely try and expect success.”

Rebeca Kuropatwa is a Winnipeg freelance writer.

Unique coming of age

Richard Newman and Gina Chiarelli in Bar Mitzvah Boy, at Pacific Theatre until April 14. (photo by Damon Calderwood)

The number 13 means different things to different people. To a baker, it’s that extra pastry that he adds to a dozen; to the superstitious, it’s considered bad luck to the extent that some buildings do not have a 13th floor. To a Jewish boy, it means his right of passage into manhood, a journey fraught with both angst and joy.

But what if you missed that momentous occasion, for whatever reason, and now, as a grandfather, as your grandson’s bar mitzvah approaches, you have an urgent need to have a bar mitzvah ceremony? This premise forms the basis of local playwright Mark Leiren-Young’s Bar Mitzvah Boy, a two-hander being staged at the intimate Pacific Theatre in Vancouver until April 14. It won the American Jewish Play Project’s prize for best new Jewish play last year, with successful staged readings in New York, Boston and Charlotte, N.C.

Joey Brandt (Richard Newman) is a successful Vancouver divorce lawyer who wants to study privately with Rabbi Michael (Gina Chiarelli) in order to have his bar mitzvah before his grandson’s big day. He is surprised to learn that she is female, and even more surprised when she refuses him as a student, suggesting that he join Cantor Rubin’s bar mitzvah class instead. Joey is obviously a man used to getting his way and, not surprisingly, his stint in Rubin’s class turns into a fiasco, as Joey disrupts the class and takes all the boys out for Hawaiian pizza (you know, the kind that has ham on it). The rabbi eventually relents, in light of both Joey’s advocacy skills and a big donation to the synagogue’s renovation fund.

The chemistry between the two actors is palpable. The audience is led through a witty pas de deux, and both teacher and student experience personal metamorphoses through their weekly interactions. Joey – who has not been to shul for 52 years – learns to put on tefillin, as well as studying the liturgy and history of his people, in a crash course in Judaism. Meanwhile, the somewhat bohemian rabbi (she jogs and smokes marijuana – for “medicinal purposes” only) works through her own demons, which include an almost-12-year-old daughter with cancer and a husband who cannot cope with the illness. In an engaging twist, the professional roles reverse as the players grapple with the existential question of whether G-d is a metaphor or a real entity on which to base our faith.

Newman, who says that he is “Jewish on both sides” is stellar in his role as Joey (and his Hebrew is not too bad, either) but it is Chiarelli who steals the show with her sublime portrayal of a working mom having to deal with a sick child and an unsupportive husband. Kudos to Chiarelli, who is not Jewish, but who has mastered the dialogue and rituals of the script.

The set design is sparse but effective. One side is a backlit bimah with a lectern and a dove-shaped eternal flame hanging above. The other side does double duty as the rabbi’s study (replete with a library that includes Kosher Sex by Rabbi Shmuley Boteach and the Kama Sutra) and Joey’s office. The costumes are simple and the music – klezmer, what else.

Leiren-Young peppers the play with local references that will resonate with some of the community audience – names like Cantor Rubin, Rabbi Solomon, Schara Tzedeck, the astronomical prices of the real estate – some contemporary quips about the Broadway musical hit Hamilton and singer Kenny Rogers, and a multitude of Jewish clichés. He is the master of witty repartee, as anyone will know who has seen his play Shylock, which was, most recently, at Bard on the Beach last year.

“I had a truly crazy bar mitzvah at the Beth Israel,” said Leiren-Young when asked in an email interview by the JI about his own bar mitzvah experience. “There was a snowstorm and my mom’s car was hit en route to the shul for Friday night services. After that, standing at the bimah

and singing was easy! I drew a lot of inspiration for this play from real experiences – a mix of my own and stories from friends – but I just realized I left out the snowstorm. Maybe that’ll go in the movie.”

As to whether or not you have to be Jewish to get the play, he said, “No more than you have to be Catholic to ‘get’ Doubt or Mass Appeal or Sister Mary Ignatius (three ‘Catholic’ plays I love). But there are definitely moments that will hit harder for a Jewish audience and, I suspect, there will be jokes only Jewish audience members will laugh at.”

It is somewhat ironic that the world première of this play is being held in the basement of an Anglican Church, but that is part of its cachet.

The audience take-away from any play is deeply personal but, as Joey says in his bar mitzvah speech at the end of this journey into his faith: today, I am a man here to honour my family and ancestors, to celebrate being a Jew and becoming a member of a community with all the rights and responsibilities that go along with that membership. And, to that, we say, amen.

For tickets, visit pacifictheatre.org or call the box office at 604-731-5518.

Tova Kornfeld is a Vancouver freelance writer and lawyer.